As I have said previously, if I were a pro or still a photo journalist, I'd
have gone digital years ago. If the picture is what it's about, and that's all
it's about, then digital is the answer, because the camera is just a tool, the
means to an end. It's no different from a carpenter retiring his hammer and
buying a nail gun. Whether it's the hammer or the nail gun, when the goal is
just to drive the nail, with either one, the nail gets driven.
There are people who make paper just because they like to. I know a couple of
old codgers who build most of their own furniture, although they both are
wealthy enough to buy a whole Ethan Allen store if they wanted to. They do it
because they enjoy the process. My wife likes to bake cakes from scratch
instead of just throwing an egg and a cup of milk in some mix poured out of a
box. I like doing photography the way I've always done it just because I like
doing it the way I've always done it. It's a hobby, just for grins, something
I do solely to please and entertain myself, and if any part of it ever stopped
being fun, I'd stop doing it.
It's not at all unlikely that on any given day I might leave home on a
photographic expedition with the OM-4Runner loaded with four different camera
systems: A half dozen OM bodies, each loaded with different film, 15-20 lenses,
plus lots of other Oly stuff; Mamiya RB67 and five lenses; Graflex XLRF and
five lenses, 6x9 Crown Graphic and 10 lenses. Fortunately, although not
accidentally, the roll film backs are interchangeable among the last three
outfits, the Mamiya backs working perfectly on the Graphic and Graflex gear and
the Graphic backs working just as well on the Mamiya.
All this really means is, I just enjoy playing with the gear. I have
occasionally taken pretty much the same shot with four different cameras on
five different kinds of film with six or seven different lenses.
I even enjoy standing in the dark, muttering under my breath when a roll of 120
seems to want to buckle instead of smoothly engaging in the spirals of a Nikor
reel, or even swearing out loud when, after fumbling around for 15 seconds, I
realize I failed to put the tank lid where I could find it.
For me, except for those rare moments of excitement when I think I might
finally have taken that once-in-a-lifetime shot, the most enjoyable and
exciting part of my brand of photography is the 12-15 minutes between the time
I pour in that initial water bath and the moment the fixer has finally cleared
the film and I can poke a finger down the center of a Nikor reel, lift it up
and pull off the last couple of frames to see how it all "came out," before
beginning the wash cycle. I even don't mind waiting for the stuff I have to
"send away" for processing. When did anticipation go out of style? When it
comes back a week or two later, it's almost like opening presents on Christmas
morning.
I don't usually drive on the Interstate highways unless there's some urgency to
get from here to there. I am, however, eternally thankful for the Interstate
system, because it attracts the big rigs, the motor homes, the
hell-bent-for-leather, "got to make 800 miles today" tourists, the U-Haul
movers, stinky busses, and all the other undesirables, keeping them off the
"back roads" where I travel. It may take me a little longer to get where I'm
going, but it's a whole lot more fun, more relaxing, more interesting, and
offers many more photographic possibilities. I learned a long time ago that,
as often as not, the getting there is more enjoyable than the being there.
That, I guess, sort of sums up my photographic philosophy.
If I had to draw another analogy, it would be that, for me, the photograph I
end up with is the equivalent of that piece of strawberry cheesecake that comes
after the crisp and crunchy salad with garlic bread croutons and buttermilk
ranch dressing, the hot yeast rolls with real butter, the medium rare,
bacon-wrapped 14-oz. fillet mignon, the loaded baked potato, with extra chives
and bacon bits, and the lightly-breaded and perfectly fried onion rings. All
too good to rush through just to get to a little dessert.
To sum it all up, I just can't see myself being happy and doing this kind of
stuff:
Hold big, ugly plastic thing against nose, peer into crappy viewfinder,
compose, depress shutter release halfway to alert big, ugly plastic thing to
focus and calculate exposure, press shutter release fully, chimp.
Oops. Picture tilted a little. Delete.
Hold big, ugly plastic thing against nose, peer into crappy viewfinder,
recompose, depress shutter release halfway to alert big, ugly plastic thing to
focus and calculate exposure, press shutter release fully, chimp.
Better; not tilted. Check histogram. Oops. Needs some adjustment. Delete.
Fiddle with buttons and/or wade through menus, make adjustment, hold big, ugly
plastic thing against nose, peer into crappy viewfinder, recompose, depress
shutter release halfway to alert big, ugly plastic thing to focus and calculate
exposure based on new setting, press shutter release fully, chimp.
Looks okay now. Time to go home and sit in front of the computer naming files,
burning CDs and doing other really, really boring stuff.
Sorry to ramble on so much. I really have nothing against digital photography.
I quite likely will replace the little C-2000Z in the next year or so,
possibly with an E-1 when the prices come down to less than the C-2000Z cost in
1999 ($700). But even if I do, it'll probably never be more than my "snapshot"
camera, the one to take to grandkids' birthday parties, to the beach, camping,
fishing, etc.
Whichever you choose, digital or film, enjoy doing it. Unless it's what puts
the bread on your table, it's really, basically, just a game, and each one of
us gets to make up our own rules as we go along.
Walt, still marching to that same familiar old drumbeat
--
"Anything more than 500 yards from
the car just isn't photogenic." --
Edward Weston
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